Brother Bubbles
by RougePsyker
Summary: Brother Virgil, Terminator of the Angels of Vigilance Chapter arrives in the city of Rapture, and finds a purpose in life more than just for war. T for violence. More reviews, faster updating applies here. R&R please.
1. Chapter One: Welcome to Rapture

_Well, guys, this is a little crossover piece of Bioshock and Warhammer 40,000. Enjoy, and please post a review of what you think, I really enjoy the feedback! Also, same deal as always, if you guys review me, you can contact me at my forum and maybe I'll stick an OC of yours into the story for a cameo._

_Thought of the Day: "Be vigilant in your duty, lest idleness spawn disaster."_

Imperial Hive-World _Dulemid IV_

Gaultis plains, meridian continent;

Sector 28-D of Imperial Segmentum Command, front lines;

Northern trench lines, first layer;

2 hours after sunset, local cold season;

_Ten minutes ago_.

The auspex, the life-finding radar device which was found throughout the Imperium, lit up. An armored hand snatched it up from its snow-covered nest. The two others that the squad bore in its possession also reacted to the new life signs a heartbeat later. "Stay vigilant, brothers. The heretic draws near." Brother Sarch hissed to his brethren, who all were instantly at the parapet, followed closely by the slower Imperial Guardsmen. There was the familiar snap-click of autoguns feeding their chemical-propelled projectiles into their firing mechanisms, the whine of lasguns charging and the much heavier sounds of bolt guns loading. Several of the more pious members of this trench-line began to murmur prayers, litanies of accuracy and the like.

"Range?" The single largest of the occupants grumbled, his helmet and vox caster mangling his vocalizations to give an eternally ominous voice to the living legend inside the armor.

"Five hundred meters and closing, Brother." Sarch answered back over the noise of the snipers already starting to whither down the assault, noting with slight amusement the start of surprise as the Guardsmen around the Terminator realized his presence. Though three tons of bronze colored metal moving with such swiftness was possible. However, the sheer subtlety of his arrival was disconcerting. Virgil took up position, his double barreled Storm Bolter already loaded and ready. Set into the depths of his bear-like helmet, his eyes scanned the field.

He had merited his own little section of trenchworks, a dugout more suitable for a tank than a humanoid, but nonetheless, Brother Virgil of the Angels of Vigilance actually qualified for that description. So were the other four of his squad, all Honored Terminators, all capable of ripping a battle tank with their armored power fists, all legends in their own rights.

There was a grunt as the tense few seconds before the enemy reached effective range. Three hundred meters was the standard effective distance for their weapons.

"Three fifty... forty... wait for it... ten... five, two mark! OPEN FIRE!"

Fingers squeezed triggers, depressed firing studs and cycled rounds. Bolters barked first, chewing into the front line of heretics followed closely behind by the fast-firing lasguns, and finally by the autoguns and cannon.

The front line of cultists crumpled, a few literally disappearing as tightly focused beams of energy pulled apart their constituent atomic structure to nothing.

A plasma cannon spat a small sun into an ore truck turned personnel transport. The front cab was vaporized, slagging the primitive combustion engine and melting the drive shafts. With the front plowing into the ground, the rear end didn't have anything better to do than to flip up and throw its occupants forward like a feudal-world catapult.

A heavy bolt round entered through the flak-armor of a Guardsman beside Virgil, bursting the man like an over-ripe _ocelo_ fruit found local to this planet, spraying his companions with blood. Turning once to confirm that he could be of no help, Virgil returned to firing, shouting into his internal vox-caster that the enemy were now densely packed and ripe for... there! The sound that pierced his ears, the scream of pure fury!

Finally, the truly heavy guns of the Imperium defenders began to reap their share of the crop. Heavy shells of many and exotic flavors began to drop down among the enemy. Of course, the standard high-explosive shells were shredding foes, but also there were the Hellion, which sprayed thick promethia-gel all over a fifty meter radius before igniting. Void shells landed into the soft earth of the battlefield, only to disappear – and take a ten meter radius ball of matter with them. Mercy upon those who were half-caught in the embrace of nothingness.

The second echelon recoiled as the Imperial fire began to scythe through their lines, and there was a brief calm as they built up the momentum to follow the first charge. Guardsmen and Marine alike used that respite to reload on weapons.

Warp storm _Duplexio_ began twelve mili-seconds later.

It was a completely freak occurrence for a Warp Storm to begin on the surface of a planet, but nonetheless the easiest explanation was that some crazed cultist had projected some sort of spell to catalyze a storm which consumed the entire planet, and soon enough the local system within a few scant breaths for those who could take them.

For the lucky ones, it was a quick event. Billions of lives, snuffed out with but a whisper. Two hundred regiments of Imperial Guard, the crews of seventy eight Navy warships and transports, three billion Imperial citizens, and seven hundred and fifty two Space Marines perished in one of the most sudden warp storms ever encountered in Imperial records.

For the lucky ones, they died.

Brother Virgil was not one of those lucky ones.

_The present._

He did not know how long he was in that... void. The eternal, all consuming darkness and silence. The displays set into the insides of his helmet were all frozen. He tried to move. Nothing. No sensation, no... anything.

Virgil did not know how long he was in that darkness for. He only knew that he was struggling against his armour, trying to move armo~

The tug of gravity suddenly pulled on him plunged him down, down, down to the surface below. He was falling through a storm. For a moment, his breath was taken away. The... purity of it, the tranquility of the churned up sea and the lighting and... it was amazing, how this rain was not setting off the acid alarms in his suit. He had never encountered any other kind of rain before.

During his rapidly accelerating descent, Virgil faintly registered a sleek, steel tube, with several protrusions coming out of it; namely two large, flat wings and a pair of noisy combustion engines with propellers attached and a small stabilizing fin on one end, before he crashed into the right-hand wing. It was just a glancing hit, but just enough to shred the flimsy aluminum skin. That fatal impact for the primitive aircraft was nothing more than a sharp jolt for Virgil, who was busy reassuming control of his armor's Machine Spirit.

Brother Virgil kept on falling.

He hit the water like a solid surface, and felt his armor lock down into shock mode as it plunged into the icy depths of the stormy Atlantic sea. The Terminator Marine struggled uselessly to pull himself to the surface, knowing that there was little he could do but submit to the pressures of the depths. If he was lucky, this place would be no more deeper than a few kilometers, in which case he would simply march to the surface, and find his way back to his Chapter.

Two kilometers down, he felt himself hit something. It was a small thud, not jarring but alarming for him; he hadn't expected anything to hit him yet. And still, he kept on falling in this liquid environ.

_Don't doubt yourself, Virgil. It is just the matter of getting your feet and your bearings. Just like the underwater battles in Hydromar VII._

The self talk helped a bit, as he recalled the crushing depths. Knocking an Ork-made Killa Kan and following it down, seeing it and the Ork inside slowly crushed by the depths as he waited for his brethren to haul him back up.

He finally landed in a clump of underwater plant-life, and quickly worked his way out of the tangling mess. Now with his feet firmly on the soil, he checked himself. Nothing in the way of projectile weapons, he had lost his Storm Bolter somewhere between the trench and the bottom of this sea. That gone, he was left with only his Power Fist.

Well, time to go, then. He looked around, and began to march.

Two steps later, he was falling again.

It was a much slower, slightly more controlled descent this time, mainly because he reached behind him and was clawing at the steep slope to slow himself down. Terminator Virgil stumbled slightly down the valley, and noticed his visual sensors were offline. He rebooted them, and sucked in a breath.

Before him was a city, entirely underwater.

He passed by a large statue of a powerfully built man bearing a sphere upon his back. Another showed one flying, without aid. More still showed lithe dancers spinning around a similar spherical object.

Lights glowed and sparkled as they proudly bore their messages. It was... vaguely familiar to him. The unknown lettering to him was oddly familiar... vaguely looked ancient High Gothic, or a derivative of such. Such whimsical use of the sacred language was... confusing. Was this an underwater temple for some defunct deity?

He looked around, and saw only one door, which was situated at the base of a large tower-structure. Unsticking himself from the silt, he marched through the pressure to arrive at the bulkhead. Drawing back his fist, he vaguely felt something clang as he was about to punch through the metal doors. The heavy panel slid back, revealing a small chamber. Wary, he stepped inside. There was a glowing white panel in front of him, which had more of the text written on it. It suddenly rotated revealing a second set of runes. The room began to drain.

A third set of runes appeared after the last of the water disappeared down some drains, and the door hissed opened. Unlike the grandeur of its outer shell, the insides of these buildings were darker, less welcoming and far more... familiar. Virgil almost grinned. Just like the inside of a Space Hulk. He stepped out into the atrium, noting the expensive embellishments on even the simplest of furniture. Gold-leafed chairs, finely woven carpets... they were all crushed underfoot as he picked his way through.

"AAAAAAAAAAAAH!"

The scream rocked his senses as he whipped around, to see a mangled, humanoid... _thing_ standing there in front of him. His right arm was instantly up and pointed at it, his finger depressing the trigger of... the Storm Bolter that wasn't there. Cursing silently, he watched as the humanoid... it looked vaguely human, or a twisted parody of one, jumped back and hissed at him. It wasn't speaking anything that he could understand, gibbering on about something and laughing anxiously. The white mask on its face made it all the more worrying to watch. The thing was obsessing over something as it tottered unsteadily on its feet, walking away.

Rather stunned at the odd encounter, Virgil breathed a prayer of guidance, wishing for some kind of purpose, some kind of direction.

He was wandering around again, looking around what had to be a grand interior, all wrapped in the solid safety of the ocean above. Its grand designs, however, had to have been ruined at some point; there were wreckage everywhere, and more than a few times, he stepped into a pool of water. Dead bodies also littered around, and on closer inspection it seemed like they had been brutally ripped apart, both by blades and by solid slug weapons. Autoguns? The Terminator moved on.

These were mutants, whether they died or not it wasn't of concern to him, only that they were dead. He had managed to scrounge out a heavy tool, it looked like something the Adeptus Mechanicus would call a 'wrench' or some sort. It was solid and heavy, and combined with the musculature of a Terminator grade Space Marine, it made a great door-crusher. He didn't want to waste his Power Fist on such things, preferring to have it drawn back and ready to sunder whatever could be waiting on the other side of the door in front of them.

It was a full hour or two before he heard the next scream. It was higher pitched now, less mature. The Terminator pulled around to go down that way, his massive frame slowly building up to a full charge.

In a brightly lit room, there was another mangled humanoid, who was screaming something at a girl. A young girl, with a small device with a red container attached to the top side. He assumed it was some kind of syringe, seeing how sharp the tip was, and the liquid sloshing around inside the red container.

All this was taken in as he was sailing through the air, flimsy support struts and catwalks snapping as he barreled through them. He landed with a heavy crash in the middle of the room. Wooden floorboards splintered, woven fabric flooring tore, a chair that he had landed beside was hurled in front of him as he smashed it out of the way.

The man who had just struck her looked on in horror at the sudden appearance of the bronze-armored Space Marine, and weakly fired his slug thrower. Little lead bullets splashed across his armor, deforming and ricocheting off. Threat identified, Virgil charged forward, his right arm thrusting into the man's abdomen, throwing him back and into a wall, where he cracked the weak wooden construction. He fell down, only to be met by the deactivated power fist, which crushed the man's ribcage. Pulling him aside, Virgil smashed the man into a wall, some unknown instinct telling him that this mutant freak deserved this. The torso and head of the deceased mutant crashed through glass after the third time Terminator Virgil pounded him against the glass.

From the corner of his eye, he saw another man, who was still human-looking. He had bandages from small wounds, but nothing else to worry him. Virgil simply ignored the man as the girl got back up. She would scream, he knew. Most humans acted in fear, but...

"_Mr Bubbles?"_ She babbled on in some unknown language. Virgil wondered what she was saying.

Looking down at her, Virgil was surprised that the girl was already at his feet, looking up at him with strange, yellow eyes. And in those eyes, he saw no fear, not even apprehension. Just... relief. Those eyes seemed to relax now to a cool green as she reached up to hold his bloodied hand. She tugged on it, bidding him to follow her.

"_Lets go, Mr. Bubbles, lets find some more angels!"_

_**Whew, that's the end of this chapter. I'll have to figure out the language gap soon, but I'm thinking a translator plasmid might do the trick. Just finding out some way of sticking Virgil with it is the problem.**_

_**And yes, I did just explain why the plane crashes in the beginning of Bioshock.**_

_**Oh, and the more reviews I get, the faster I'll put out a new chapter of this story, so review me, readers! ^__^  
**_


	2. Chapter Two: Meet the Mother

_Coranth, that's a great idea. An aggressive Big Daddy... oh gods, this is going to be fun..._

_fanskap, Long live Warhammer40k: Here you go, then._

_Compass West, you'll find out soon enough._

_Sydonai: This is your answer._

_mgunh1: Not really a Bioshock 2 crossover, since I haven't played it. If this does last until Bioshock 2 does come out, then I'll start implementing elements of that plot into this story. Big Sister of Battle... Lol. _

_Anyway, for now I'm going to avoid making big changes to the overall canon, so far, my plans for this story is that it will come within arm's reach of the actual plot without actually interfering, although if I add Chaos to the mix I'll probably be doing major overhauls to canon. When you guys send me a review, tell me about what you want to happen: completely intergrate other factions of Warhammer40k to the story, parallel it to the plot of Bioshiock with only the Big Terminator or something in between?_

_As always, reviews and critique is always appreciated and encouraged._

_Update, 02/22/2010:_

_Dammit, I thought I had already edited that 'seal' mistake. Ah well, at least now its fixed. I'm still working on my ToyHammer fic, but I may update a post every now and again, now that I've finished the Bioshock games._

**_Thought for the Day: _We all make our choices, but in the end our choices make us. **

The little girl was humming as she skipped over the rubble, her tiny little feet unmarked from what should have been a thousand lacerations. He looked down at the ground, broken and twisted as it was. A normal human's foot would have been cut numerous times, their ability to tread lightly completely irrelevant to the sheer amount of debris scattered throughout the area. Virgil treaded lightly – if that term was possible for three tons of armored warrior - through the remains of this city, his eyes constantly scanning for any more enemies.

His every instinct was grating against his nerves; he desperately wanted to check his auspex, but it was malfunctioning beyond his understanding of how to repair it. Idly, he rebooted the power to the auspex a few times, then to his other sensors. It seemed like most of the passive and external sensors on his armor were offline or simply damaged. Reactivating those which were able to re-boot, he began to see this new world in a better light.

The two of them came across into a small courtyard, where the girl skipped over to the artificial waterfall. Hearing the soft rumbling of the water pouring into the pool had a soothing effect. The Terminator relaxed slightly, his eyes scanning the environment less anxiously, appreciating the architecture of the area more calmly. There were a few dead bodies about, but that didn't detract from the serenity of the scenery. The Terminator had climbed mountains of bodies before. A paltry dozen wasn't going to ruin his day.

"_Mr Bubbles, I found an angel!" _

The girl's shrill cry went up with excitement, and Virgil did an about turn to see her prancing joyfully off in a different direction. He moved to follow her, his foosteps not caring what he crushed underneath. She was a curiosity, shaped as a little girl, in the fact that she was completely unafraid of the Terminator wrapped in three tons of armor. Even Imperial Generals and Lord Commissars, who had faced down daemons as junior officers and had planned alongside the Space Marines for decades were unnerved at the sight of their mightiest champions.

But this girl was completely undisturbed by his bulk, even to the point where she seemed soothed by his massive presence, her jerky, panicked flinches turning into playful, cheerful skipping as she came closer. Now she was crouched over a body, a twisted remain of a mutant. She prodded it lightly with the device she carried with her, stabbing the thing's cheeks and neck. Apparently satisfied with something, she stabbed the thing in the neck, and the device hummed to life.

Virgil looked on, frozen in curiosity as the little girl's device filled its canister with red liquid – not blood, it was too brightly colored for that – and watched as she jabbed the body a few more times, slowly filling the canister. He wondered what kind of madness had locked his muscles in place, keeping him from protesting her barbaric actions. The girl was whimsically humming to herself as she went about her grisly work, the work of butchers and sadists, filling the little container mounted on top. Maybe it was the contrast of her age and apparent innocence to the dried blood at her fingertips. The bright red fluid canister filled. She sloshed it around playfully, her giggles unsettling the hardened Marine.

For centuries, he had been fighting the enemies of the Imperium. Heretics who abandoned their very sanity in thirst for power were shredded by his chainsword when he had been a mere apprentice – a Scout of the Tenth Company. Foul xeno, greenskinned Orks, stick-thin Eldar and the closely packed lines of Tau, their bodies crushed under his feet as he marched through them as a Tactical Marine. After his promotion into the ranks of the Terminators, and the bestowing of Tactical Dreadnought Armor to his disposal and the responsibility to take it to the most dangerous of battlefields, a position he had held for more than seventy five years now, had him see horrors of the Warp manifest, the Daemons which screamed reality-rending cries crushed between the fingers of his Power Fist, and his crowning moment of achievement, where his squad followed Chaplain Ventores to bring down a Daemon Prince during the Thirteenth Black Crusade.

Now, a little girl that came no higher than his thigh, with long, lanky limbs holding onto a blunt syringe, was making him take a step back with her giggles. He sat in the shadows, looking at her pop open the seal on the red bottle before her.

"What in the Emperor's name are you?" He asked her, knowing that she would not understand.

"_ADAM! You'd think WE couldn't SMELL IT!?"_ A voice, hoarse and anxious, shouted out. Footsteps approached. The girl gave a small sound universal to humans:

"Uh oh..."

"_Please!? We didn't mean to do ANYTHING! WE DON'T WANT TO HURT YOU!" _Shots rang out, chipping the statue that stood over the girl. She screamed, and masked figures stepped out into the pool of light coming from the lone overhead lamp.

"_Adam, adam, adam, ADAAAAAM!" _One sang in a sing-song voice that rose to a screech, stepping around on her tiptoes. Her voice was almost ecstatic at the prospect of 'adam'.

There were two of them, and more in the shadows. One was a thuggish brute, a large section of pipe held tightly to his chest. He was babbling on about something, one word 'Adam' in particular. It sounded like a name. Was it the girl's? The other one was a woman, a small, slender pistol in her hand. It was an archaic revolver, he had seen Guardsmen Snipers use a variant of that mechanism back on Eastwood II – although the barrels were much longer and shrouded, much heavier rounds were fired and overall more effective to use.

"You will not harm this girl."

The mutants whipped around, and Virgil stepped forward, crushing the man between his fingers. The Power Fist crackled to life, frying the body instantly and sending it into spasms. The woman screamed something, babbling on like she had always been shooting at him with her little weapon. The little pebbles skipped of the curved plates of his armor, doing little more than chip paint. He hurled the dead body at the slug-thrower, sending her sprawling to the ground. The second wave approached, babbling incoherently. A woman with hooks instead of hands jumped on his chest. She was crushed between his face and the wall he charged into, her torso caving in.

An archaic autogun started to unload its contents onto his chest. Ignoring the bullets, Virgil charged forward. A slug pierced one of his secondary sensors. There was goodbye to any hopes of thermal vision coming back online.

He sent the man flying through a wall, missing his right arm and shoulder from the blow that he had taken from the giant's power fist. Virgil shouted out the Litany of Endurance as he moved to intercept them.

"THOUGH MY FOES _SURROUND_ ME,  
I SHALL NOT FALTER,

I SHALL **ENDURE**!"

He rushed forward, covering ground and leaving a trail of craters as the wooden floor crumpled beneath his weight. The heretics were now trying to move away from him, panic in their cries as the roaring man-machine fell in among them.

He crushed one more mutant, sending its decayed body to the second floor. He was on the third.

"THOUGH MY FOES _ATTACK_ ME,  
I SHALL NOT FALTER,

I SHALL **ENDURE**!"

A plush, heavy chair was picked up, and hurled at a large, fat man. The man disintegrated, re-appearing behind Virgil. The Terminator swung around, smashing the man to the ground. He disintegrated yet again, sure to come back.

"THOUGH MY FOES _BESET_ ME,

I SHALL NOT FALTER,

I SHALL **ENDURE!**"

Two more mutants met their end as their weak-kneed bodies tried to propel themselves away from him, his power fist simply passed through their bodies, vaporizing their blood and bone thanks to the field of power wrapped around the heavy armored fist.

"THOUGH MY FOES _TORTURE_ ME,

I SHALL NOT FALTER,

I SHALL **ENDURE**!"

The disappearing-reappearing man faded back as Virgil tried to catch him in a solid state. In the corner of his consciousness, he was aware that the little girl was running away, into a hallway. Good, she was out of the danger. He swung wildly to try and hit the constantly shifting man.

"_Please, I didn't mean to hurt you!_" He was begging desperately, completely throwing Virgil off. The man sounded pleading... he swung again, clipping the man's shoulder before he could escape.

The man screamed in pain, fading away.

And reappearing right beside the little girl. She screamed as he grabbed her by the wrist, her limbs flailing wildly but doing no damage as she tried to break his grip.

Virgil rushed forward to meet him, the man began to strangle the little girl as he pushed her to the ground.

A gunshot sounded off.

The disappearing man's head had a neat hole in it from the back, and a nice micemeat effect on the front, where fragments of his skull had gone through his fatty face. He fell forward.

"_You will not touch her, you __**beast**__! As for you... wait... I don't remember designing you... are you one of those freakshows Atlas had been designing? Scheiβer... did you do all that?"_

The source of the untranslateable voice was a woman. She stood there, tall and proud, a long-barreled slug thrower in her hand. It still smoked. She was an excellent shot. Brown hair that reached her shoulders curled upwards, as if to try to touch her face. I. He had a brief flash of imagination, seeing her with a bolt pistol in hand and Sororitas markings. She would have made a good Adepta Sororitas.

But Virgil had more pressing concerns. He walked over to the girl, knelt down and pulled the body off her. Tearing a strip of clean (relatively) cloth off her dead assailant, he brushed the blood from her weeping face. She was sitting on his knee, supported by his massive powerfist (deactivated) as she cried her eyes out. She was repeating three words over and over again.

"_It was scary, it was scary..."_

The woman was gone when he looked up at her vantage point, she had descended the stairs and was walking over to her. Her eyes were fierce, protective of the child, but still; she saw that he could protect the girl better than she could. Lowering her pistol, she looked at the little girl, and then at the Terminator.

"_Just who are you?"_ She asked him. "_Acht, I see... you are not a local, yes? You need a translator plasmid, right? Show me your arm."_

Virgil remained silent. Her mysterious rescuer sighed in obvious frustration, and began to rummage about in her bag. The little girl seemed to be calmer now as time passed, her tears reduced to a sniffling. She then climbed up, until she was atop his back. The woman was pulling out a blue vial from a bag... it looked like a syringe of some chem-enhancers. She offered it to the giant, who was immediately on guard. His young charge wobbled uncertainly on his shoulders. The woman pressed the vial into the smaller of his hands – although the forearm itself was larger than her torso.

"_Here. It is called 'Many Words'. It is a tonic to allow you to speak English."_

The wary Terminator looked at the glowing blue liquid, and tried to discern what the woman was saying. His every instinct was again grating for him to start smashing everything, and purge this underwater city.

But... no. That would not be right.

She was trying to help him, it seemed. Was the girl her offspring? Making a decision was tough. Should he just punch a hole in her chest, leave her to die and move on? Virgil opted for trusting her. He had nothing more to lose. Opening up a small injector port, used by apothecaries to inject stimulants into injured Marines, he pressed the needle into his neck.

Blue liquid rushed into his body. The effects were immediate. Along with that new liquid was a stream of counter-suppressants, which would keep his body's enhanced immune system from counteracting the drugs given to him. The tonic had an immediate effect. The Marine fell to his knees, his body on fire. It was much like how he had been during his time as a candidate for the Angels of Vigilance, the pure pain of the grafts as his body was transformed from a mere human to a God of War incarnate.

Time lost all value to Virgil as he fought against the pain of his tonic modification. His body was fighting it, he knew. He was not designed to accept such huge changes into his body's systems.

Hands clapped down to the floor as he breathed heavily through his helmet.

"Ach, you big baby. It should not have hurt that much." The woman teased, a smirk on her face. He voice was dry, "Your first tonic, huh? Just wait till you see the plasmids."

"Mr. Bubbles? Are you alright?" The little girl asked him, hanging off the large metal eagle decoration on the crest of his hood.

Wait...

"I... I can understand you now."

"Yes... I see that you took the tonic. Welcome to Rapture, my friend. Anna, would you kindly let go of the man?"

The girl obeyed immediately.

"And... may I know who you are? Mr. Bubbles is rather... generic.""

"Virgil. Honor-Brother Virgil of the Angels of Vigilance."

"A monk? I did not think that religion was so... militant these days. I must say, your armor is most intriguing, Brother Virgil. But more intriguing is the man in the machine. _Humanus ex machina._"She whispered, her voice aloft with sly amusement. Virgil rose to his full height, towering over the compact woman.

"Enough questions. Now you answer mine. Who are you?" He asked.

"Me? My name is Bridgette. Doctor Bridgette Tenenbaum." Dr. Tenenbaum answered, voice sly. "And... _would you kindly_ remove your helmet?"

"No." Came the flat reply.

"... I see." She chuckled.

"Now, do you have any other questions, my vigilant friend?"

"Who is this... Mr. Bubbles?"

**Lol. Well, that's it for this time, friends. We'll have Virgil getting accustomed to his new job soon. -Grins-**

**In other news, Jack has just finished a little scrap in the Medical Pavilion. I'm going to see how closely I can parallel the actual storyline without interfering.**

**Would you kindly review and critique this story?**


	3. Chapter Three: Patriarch Terminatus

_**Three months without an update... I seriously have to give this fic a little more attention, no?**_

_**Well, here's an update.**_

The woman smiled; she was amused by his confusion. She seemed comfortable talking and staying within the reach of the Terminator. Again, Virgil remembered that few beings in the universe were. His head turned to follow her as she began to walk this way and that, as the little girl ran rings around the two of them.

Tenenbaum reached into a large bag at her side, and pulled out a small cylinder – it was a tox-stick, Virgil realized; usually a roll of mild depressants, ignited for their fumes which had the effect of calming the nerves – and lit it with a small pyro-box. Virgil flexed the fingers of the power fist in his hand, which attracted the attention of the little girl. Anna immediately jumped up to cling onto the stylized skull fixed onto the back of his metal fist.

"Hey, you've got a little babyface on your arm, Mr. Bubbles!" She giggled.

"Who is this... Mr. Bubbles that she speaks of?" His plasmid augmented voice sounded rather mangled. It was as if he were trying to speak while someone clamped their hands around his neck. Tenenbaum smiled slyly as she paced around him.

"You come from far away, yes?" She queried, and when the man remained silent, she continued on. "Mr. Bubbles is the endearing name given by Little One. They are known as the 'Big Daddies' to normal people. They are the Guardians of the Little Sisters."

Her pitched accent reminded him of a Kreiger, a Death Korpsman. Virgil pushed on with his questioning.

"And why do they need to be protected?"

The woman looked up from her glowing tox-stick. Her face no longer held humor in it, but instead an agonized sadness.

"Because... this place has gone insane, my dear Virgil."

- - - - -

_Please... take care of little Anna._

Virgil held the small handheld vox unit that Tenenbaum had given him. He opened up one of his ammunition pouches and stowed the 'shortwave radio' inside.

This was a city gone mad, Tenenbaum explained.

Rapture. An underwater world of chaos and ruin. Formerly a hidden paradise, the epitome of free trade, this place had now become the apex of instability, anarchy and insanity.

The mutants were victims of their own voluntary gene-splicing, and they were now no more than animals, these... Splicers.

Virgil looked at his own self in thought, wondering about his own modifications on his journey to becoming a Space Marine. He was – technically – a Splicer as well. A slight aeons more refined, if he were any judge, but an augmented human nonetheless.

These Splicers warred between their two factions, that of Atlas and that of Ryan, the usurper and the governor respectively. Tenenbaum, when asked what faction she fought for, had simply responded.

"To Ryan, they are tools. To Atlas, they are monstrosities. To me, they are my Little Ones. I fight for the Little ones."

The grizzled Terminator, victim of a hundred betrayals and thousands more double-deals, had nodded his head, approving of this mindset. He now found purpose. To help the Little Ones, as Tenenbaum had called them. Something about those little girls intrigued the veteran Space Marine. They weren't afraid of him, and he had found that comforting.

Years ago, maybe centuries now... there had been a young girl.

She was a hiver, simple in her service to the Emperor. When the Hive had been invaded by the forces of Chaos, she had managed to survive the madness that was a daemon incursion, and when Virgil and his Brothers had driven them back, only she and a handful others remained alive, curled up in a ball of tense muscle in the blown out cellar of what had been her home.

When the Adeptus Astartes had come to save her, she had been scared out of her mind. The guardian angels of Mankind, the offspring of the Emepror himself, could not inspire the feeling of safety in a human.

He still remembered the blood on his hands as she battered herself to death on his armor.

It was then that he – then a mere scout – learned that the Astartes were not only respected, but feared by those that they protected.

Maybe that was why he found himself wanting to safeguard these Little Sisters.

- - - - -

"Look, Mr. B! More angels!"

The duty of a Big Daddy was to protect the Little Sister that he was with. Virgil crushed a fist sized chunk of concrete that had fallen in during the decay of this underwater city in his efforts to catch up to the little girl.

Silently, Virgil escorted his young charge as she skipped over crumbling concrete. The broken remains of a chair sat behind a cage of metal, and around him, Virgil recognized the signs of a battle recently fought. The running waterfall bisected the stairs neatly, and in the pool at the base of the shattered stairwell lay a good half-dozen bodies, their weapons still clutched in their hands.

Splicers lay wounds were mostly flash-burns from electrical discharge, as well as the lead slugs that made up their primitive slug pistols and simple autoguns. A few also featured blunt trauma to their chests and faces. Judging by the random placement of the wounds, and the sheer brutality to the hits, the ones who had done this were either insane or new to combat.

Standing beside Anna as she went about her grisly work, he began to fiddle with his already complaining auspex. It was reading maybe five contacts in the room, when there were only two. Scanning the floor, Virgil saw a rodent scamper over the dead. He clicked off his auspex, satisfied with using his own senses over the near-broken scanner. Brother Virgil contemplated his situation as he cast his gaze over to the girl.

He was trapped, in what appeared to be an underwater city. The power cores for his suit would last a long while, but the more sensitive functions of his Tactical Dreadnought Armor would soon deteriorate without the attentions of a Techpriest. His Storm Bolter was nowhere to be found, although his Power Fist was more than sufficient for the enemies that he had encountered thus far, the double-barreled grenade launcher was still a venerated, priceless relic of a thousand battles and in a way one of the few things he valued more than his life.

Such a shame... the Terminator wondered what had become of his weapon.

Anna screamed as one of the bodies grabbed her device.

There was a sudden flash of lightning, and Virgil felt himself howl in pain as electricity surged through his armor. In a series of hisses and pops, his Black Carapace – the interface layer between man and machine - disconnected from his suit to preserve his own life, as white lightning skipped across the panels of his armor. His head-mounted displays fizzled and sparked, began flashing warnings, then ominously fell silent.

Virgil gritted his teeth as the suit hunched over, dormant. The muscle mimic system was offline, as were many of the systems. His Terminator armor had just become his own prison. Movement was difficult, and the Marine Veteran struggled against his own suit's weight. He managed to slap a manual override, and the helmet lenses opened, giving him a restricted view of the outside world.

A Splicer stood triumphantly in front of him, his arm still crackling with the gene-given energies of lightning. Seeing the helmeted head lock onto him, the Splicer hissed and began to back away. His friends were arriving, their primitive autoguns chattering like a scribe-servitor as they spewed out their leaden bullets.

In the darkness inside of his helmet, a small line of sigils scrolled across a screen.

_System overload. Rebooting in 5..._

Damnation!

_4..._

A lead pellet skipped off his forehead. Virgil took a step forward.

"Unzip him, Mr. B! UNZIP HIM!" Anna's shrill cry alerted him to the other mutants streaming in from their hiding spots.

_3..._

Another blast of elemental energies froze his arms. The ice on his torso was of little concern to him.

More of the bodies picked themselves up, fingers dancing with elemental discharges, and only now did Virgil realize his error: The auspex had been targeting human-scale life signs, and would have ignored the rodents.

_2..._

Shifting his weight, he threw his frozen limb in the path of a fireball, melting the ice around his right arm.

He felt like he was trying to work against his suit as his sore and tired body fought to close distance with the already fleeing madman. He was dashing away, between two mutants that were pouring a steady stream of the tiny metal slugs at the near-impenetrable armor.

_1..._

_System reboot._

The status displays inside of his darkened suit reignited as his Black Carapace reconnected to the ports on the suit, and it was as if a huge burden was suddenly lifted off his body. He sent a pulse of energy running down to his power fist, and the ice around it shattered as the power field popped into place, sending the ice scattering out in a fine mist of crystals.

Virgil grinned at the faces made by the mutants as the armored giant accelerated, all but doubling its speed in the space of two steps. The two autogun-wielding mutants were swatted aside as Virgil chased after the one that had stunned him. The man turned around to face the Terminator, arms crackling with energy.

He was treated to a pauldron connected to nine hundred pounds of Space Marine.

Virgil did not stop as he felt his shoulder pick up the mutant, nor did feel the lead slugs bouncing off his armor as he charged past a pair of Splicers. Neither did he realize that he was roaring a battlecry as he saw the wall rushing forward to meet him.

There was a dull thump and a crackle of masonry as the Space Marine smashed into the wall.

The world went dark.

Silence, only broken by the sound of broken stone falling, like the dull rattle of rain, filled his helmet.

Behind him, the Splicers gathered.

"Holy... did that Big Daddy just do what I think he did?" That was the closest voice so far.

"He killed Ken! The bastard!" A shrill voice reported. Virgil's rear-view camera showed the Splicer talking, hunched over the mashed up figure of a Splicer that he had battered out of the way.

"Right through the frikkin' wall... no way Saunders survived that."

One of the other Splicers strayed too close. Bursting out of the hole, Virgil slapped the frail man down, crushing bone and flesh alike.

"He's back! Grab the brat and run!"

Anna screamed as a Splicer picked her up. Another hurled a smoking box at him. The explosion rocked the room, and managed to send Virgil back into the hole from which he had ambushed them.

The Terminator blinked at the potency of the explosive. That had been unexpected. He clawed his way back out of the hole he had smashed into the wall, past the red concrete and scraps of fabric that was all remaining of the mutant sorcerer.

There was a severed arm at the mouth of the entrance he had just created. And the back of a retreating mutant was just visible.

Switching camera feed to the fingertips, the Terminator bent over.

Benjamin Tomilson was not the most intelligent of people, but when he felt the dull thump of Saunders' arm hitting the back of his head and knocking him over, he decided it was a good time to stop moving.

The unmistakeable ground-shaking vibrations of an approaching Big Daddy caused his breathing to hasten.

_Hey... I ain't botherin' that Big Daddy's lil' girl... it won't go afta' me... they ain't wired like that, arn't they?_

The pondering mass of metal and man stopped beside the fallen body. Avoiding Big Daddies was easy, the man tried to rationalize, against his growing panic. This was nothing new. He'd done this hundreds of times, every time one tried to get its brat back. Big Daddy was gonna just move on, wasn't it? Big Daddies were _dumb_.

He was used to the low rumbles of these monsters. Yeah, that was what he was hearing.

Strong fingers grabbed his arm, and bodily heaved him up, slamming him into a wall.

"I know you're alive, so stop playing dead, Splicer."

The mutant was squealing like a stuck saber-tusked boar, Virgil observed. His fingers tightened slightly around the neck of the pathetic excuse of a human. The Splicer fell silent.

"Where are they taking the girl, mutant?"

"M-medical Pavilion! B-b-by Steinman's office! N-now let me go, ya big lug!"

Virgil _squeezed._

"Tenenbaum? I require directions to the Medical Pavilion."

_**I hope you guys have been enjoying this! I'll appreciate any reviews that you'll give me, and as with ToyHammer any critiques will earn a cameo, so long as it fits in with the plot and lore of the story.**_

_**If you're wondering, the scene of destruction that Virgil visited was the battle that Jack fights just after he get shut out by Andrew Ryan, and that flamethrower turret starts trying to kill him, forcing him off to the Medical Pavilion.**_


	4. Chapter Four: Temper Maximus

Q&A Time:

_Compass West: _We'll see...

_Vanbor the Fire Mage: _You're right, there is more than that...

_melgar: _Virgil would become too powerful if I gave him plasmids, and do you think a Space Marine would submit to more gene-manipulation? They're a tool of the Emperor, refined over millenia (that last bit was untrue, but still...) and above all, they abhor the mutant; and what are splicers?

I do have plans for giving Virgil more combat power, but for now he's going to match the profile for a Bouncer Daddy.

_Legionary:_ This is actually an in-between: the Storm Bolter's gone, and he's facing the equivalent of Imperial Guardsmen Conscripts with the odd Sanctioned Psyker mixed in. I think that its about right, don't you think?

_HAL-9001: _XD I'll have more shout-outs later on.

Yep. Chaos does that to you when you see your home, family and friends burnt to the ground and sadistically slaughtered.

_Silverite, mephisteron and Ugolino:_ Ask, and ye shall (eventually) receive.

**Thought for the Day:** _"_Waste not thine munitions; Departmento Munitorium requisition forms have to be done in_ triplicate!_" -Commissar Tomas Sturm, Graduate of the Havensdown Schola Progenium, Survivors of the 986.M41class.

* * *

Virgil fell silent as he walked down the hall, scaring away a group of rats that were gathering near a still smoldering body.

Inspecting it closely, he realized the disturbing similarities between his own armor and the bulky suit that _plink_ed with the cooling metal. Eight shattered holes were all that he saw as anything resembling viewports, and he assumed that the creature inside did not have eight eyes; the dome-like helmet probably justified that the viewer would need more than one eye-hole. The hard leather suit was flexible, much unlike his armor... it was a far cry for being able to be called 'armor', yet it did have a rather strong quality to it.

Virgil held up his hand, thoughtfully looking at the suit's left.

They looked almost identical, to the casual observer.

The sudden flush of cold logic hit him.

Angels of Vigilance Honor Terminator Virgil knelt before the shattered suit. He touched the 'forehead' of the torched Big Daddy.

"Rest in peace, Mr. B. Your charges are safe with me."

He stood back up, and saluted.

Relaxing from the stance, he moved over to the doorway that lead to the Medical Pavilion, and found himself in an airlock, half-filled from shattered glass. Walking over to the door opposite, Virgil easily twisted the simple revolving lock and pulled the door open. It was a bit of a squeeze, but the Terminator managed to get his bulky suit through the small oval of doorway.

"Tenenbaum, I am in the Medical Pavilion."

The Splicer's home. Anna's prison.

This new space was... awkward. The giant staff with the two lines curling around them were etched with an unfamiliar markings. Again, like that pressure lock before, it was irritatingly familiar but also so foreign to him. Walking forward, the glowing rods flickered as water dripped down from above.

His footsteps shaking the ground as he passed by, Virgil looked left and right, wondering about the new environment that he had been presented with. Out of the corner of his eye, a flickering light alerted him to the presence of a small machine. This thing was obviously a medical facility: all humans recognized the red cross upon a white field as a sign of aid. Walking over to it, he found himself checking the dispenser over... possibly this was a servitor, bound to this wall? The simplistic style of manufacture was comforting, but nonetheless Virgil remained alert.

Something had come through here, he saw. A panel on the side revealed a complex series of connected pipes, and the flap that closed over it hung open.

Virgil looked around. Behind him, a similar machine was sparking as electricity arced over the metal surfaces.

Someone had been through here.

Virgil stalked along the empty hallways, his pounding footfalls shaking the floor as he rumbled along.

In the distant periphery of his senses, he could hear the scuttling footsteps of running

He was, for lack of a better word, worried.

For the safety of a little girl?

This Space Marine had engaged tens of thousands of foes in thousands of engagements over centuries of warfare, his fighting prowess guided by millenia of refinement and practice, trials and errors. He had seen millions, if not billions of lives snuffed out, some over days, others in the blink of an eye. Creatures thousands of years old had folded into his blows, crushed by the anti-matter field that surrounded his implacable fist.

What more was one life? One that had been corrupted beyond recognition, one that had barely learned to live? Was he worried? For that one, tiny, insignificant soul?

Certainly.

The door slid back as he approached it, and revealed a rather horrid little room. Even the most cold-blooded of Inquisition Interrogators would balk at the state of this... workspace. It was simply messy, notes and blood strewn across the floor as if it someone had thrown a tornado grenade into the room and not bothered to pick up what was left.

Then again, there wasn't much left to begin with, so that set his argument back a little.

Virgil looked around the devastated room.

"Is this the place?" He asked Tenenbaum, over the radio.

"I cannot be sure. Your... friend died before he could give us more specific instructions, yes?"

The Terminator decided that she was being sarcastic about the friend remark. His friends were infinitely more respectable than that scum he had just squeezed the life off. A nearby couch was stripped of its padding, and Virgil squeezed it in his Power Fist's many servos to wipe the blood away.

It was one of those things, you know? He wouldn't waste what remained of his Power Fist's charge on activating the power field – that would have cleared the blood off right away – and simply cleaning it was too onerous a task to undertake when encased in his armor.

Getting out of his Tactical Dreadnought Armor was simply out of the question.

Virgil looked around, at the plaster-and-wood construction of the underwater buildings.

"If we cannot find her, then it is a simple matter: I shall simply pull this place apart, block by block, until I find her. It should not take too long." Virgil relished the thought of being able to systematically tear the place apart.

"Very simple plan, yes?" Tenenbaum chuckled, her voice hiccuping as the radio crackled. "I have alternate action: capture a Splicer, alive, and ask."

"I understand... Tenenbaum, how do you think I should go about disabling a Splicer?"

Never before had the Terminator been tasked with such a... delicate task.

Orwen Roberston crouched over the broken machinegun turret, hammering away at it with his wrench. Goddamn that intruder! He was breaking everything! EVERYTHING!

Cursing and spiting, he checked the valves had been reconnected the CORRECT WAY! Who needed them to get water from A to B, huh! Atlas would have a _fit_ if he knew what was going on! What the hell was Ryan doing, bringing in an outsider? Wasn't he the one that had brought them down here in the first place anyway!

The spinning gyrocopter behind him emitted a series of beeps and whistles.

"Shut the fuck up, ya fuckin' screwhead."

Pulling back the control board, he checked the last set of panels, then pushed them closed. Grabbing the toggle to the gasoline engine, he tugged on it. The turret sputtered, coughed and died. Orwen growled, and kicked the turret.

Behind him, there was a metallic crunch and a series of thumps. He turned around to find the guard-copter gone from the air. It was in a corner now, smashed to pieces. Probably smacked into something, ruined its gyros, and crashed. Orwen sighed.

"Ah, fuck... can't get a fuckin' thing right, can you, you fuckin' fuckw-"

Orwen Robertson, born on the 18th of May, 1930. Became a tradesman in 1949, brought to Rapture during its conception as an elevator engineer, and later an automated turret manufacturer. During the Rapture Civil war of '59, he was put out in the front lines of war under the banner of Fontaine Futuristics as a combat engineer.

Virgil silently looked at the back of his bloodied hand.

"Virgil, are you there? You hit him as instructed, yes? A sharp blow to the back of the head?"

More silence.

"Virgil? Virgil! Answering, please!" Tenenbaum insisted over the radio.

Wiping the blood off on the waistcoat of the headless Splicer, Virgil coughed into the radio.

"Well... frak."

"What happened?" Tenenbaum's tone was worried as she insisted for details.

The Terminator's eyes went from the back of his hand, to the decapitated body on the ground in front of him, then to the head lying ten feet away.

"His head's gone."

Crackling static was all he could hear.

"... Tenenbaum? Doctor?"

"I guess they really make you lethal... You will be needing... ach, what do those Americana call it? 'Plan B'?"

* * *

"Ahn... ahn aburve ahll... ah hwill doo – hee hee, I shaid doo doo! - wasshit again? Ah whill doo... heehee doo noh h-harrrm..." Dr. Joel Patterson teetered on his feet.

_Pam's Pub_ certainly had a well stocked cellar. Had. Past tense. He knew it was good wine that he had been drinking. He was a conneisur... connesseseiu... connaes... expert! Giggling to himself, he looked along his shoulder to the equally enlightened Jonas.

"Ain't dat roight, J-Jonas?"

Hiccuping, he looked down at the dirty apron. Formerly Steinman's protege, the freelance doctor would operate on anyone given a chance and a half. Chuckling to himself, he remembered that Missus Hatley had been suggesting much more unorthodox methods of payment for any new beauty plasmids he may have had found. Should he keep leading her on a little bit longer?

Cackling to the ceiling, Patterson almost didn't notice the Big Daddy until he ran into it. It was crouched over by a big hole in the wall. A Little Sister hidey-hole.

"Aww, aren't you lonely, ya big lug?"

He playfully made punching motions, knowing that it wouldn't hurt him if it... wait... why did this one look a little funny? Kinda... harder. Bigger, too.

Why was his left arm crackling?

"Aw hell no... they didn't give you plasmids, did they?"

Drawing his pistol, he pointed it at the head of the Big Daddy... well, it _was_ a Big Daddy, wasn't it?

"Don'tcha worry, bahddy-boi. H-hits ghot Ae-pee r-rounds... ghoz thru hell-mets laik... laik... y'know... hot... hot clever? Cleahver! Thru... thru... uh... really easily!"

The right hand shot up, and seized his arm. Bones crackled, muscles snapped. Patterson's wrist crumbled to fine powder and his fingers jerked and went spastic as he tried to activate his Electro Bolt plasmid.

That wasn't a Big Daddy.

Patterson screamed.

His pistol – a custom made revolver made by the finest gunsmiths in Rapture – made a loud _pop_ as it discharged.

It hit the faceplate of the bear-like Big Daddy. The bullet ricocheted off the flat plate and into Patterson's shoulder.

"Holy sh-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAARGH!"

Virgil ducked his head forward, ready to rise up and stop the man before h-

He fired again.

The AP round bounced off the flat 'nose' of Virgil's helmet, and ricocheted. It entered the man's throat and made a clean exit through the back of his neck. Deformed beyond recognition, it severed just about every nerve and muscle on its exit.

Patterson died painfully.

Virgil sighed, and thumbed the control for his vox.

"Setting a trap didn't work, Tenenbaum. He tried to shoot me. Ricochet killed him."

"... _gott in himmel..._"

"Do you have a Plan C?"

"Find soft hitting object. Maybe pillow?"

Virgil was silent.

"Maybe not."

* * *

"P-please! No more _hitting_!"

The Splicer flailed as Virgil looked at him through blazing red eyepieces, throwing the plush pillow away as he advanced. He had sealed himself in the suit as soon as his atmosphere scrubbers detected a spike in the amount of fecal matter in the air.

Disgusted, the Splicer was flung to the ground. He tried to scramble away.

Virgil eased his boot down on the man's ankle.

"Stop. Moving." He warned.

The Splicer swore, spat and cursed, then redoubled his efforts to escape. His hands found a discarded and empty pistol, and hurled it at the massive armored giant. The weapon flew up, and bounced off its chest. There was an almighty shifting of weight, and the Splicer screamed as three tons of Terminator kicked his ankle, breaking it.

A foot was brought down on his knee, ready to shatter it at a breath's notice.

"Talk, and you shall be released."

The man became very still, except for his mouth, which began to flap uncontrollably.

"Alright! ALRIGHT!"

"There was a Little One brought through here. Where. Is. She?"

Tenenbaum could almost imagine the man's thoughts; _Oh _God, _those Big Daddies _think! _Ohshitohshitohshit, I'll never stick a memo on one again!_

"... t-the dental suite! Old man Suchong's place! H-haverson's boys have a base close by! I-I swear, I'm not lying!"

"Tenenbaum?" Virgil released the radio's 'send' button, and awaited the answer from the mysterious woman.

"He probably isn't. Let me find some maps, and I'll direct you to the place."

"Then may you find mercy before the Emperor, mutant."

Virgil stepped forward, and moved on.

_**Well, today's chapter is a little bit more on the humorous side (albeit the gorier side too), so I've hoped you've enjoyed it. Currently, my main focus is the ToyHammer story, so chapter releases for Brother Bubbles will be sporadic at best.**_

_**If you've enjoyed this, please review! **_


	5. Chapter Five: Medical Pavilion

**Thought for the Day: **"You think this is overkill? There's no such thing, brother. There is only 'Open fire!' and 'Reloading!' and even then I'm not sure about the second one, with the whole clip-on belt-feeds that we're getting these days." _– Techmarine Haseptus, Angels of Vigilance 1__st__ Company._

* * *

The dental area opened up before him as he stepped up to the door.

Huh.

A shattered excuse for a lampshade threw its uneven light all around the room, lighting up some parts as bright as day while others were trapped in an artificial twilight. A door slid open as he approached, and Virgil stepped through. The dark maze of hallways looked more like an Inquisitor's interrogation suite, except with more dead bodies lying around. Wait. Virgil retracted that comment. There were probably less dead bodies here than there were in an Inquisitorial dungeon, except that those bodies were usually more… organized than these ones. His stint in the Death Watch had allowed him to see enough evidence of that.

They had been killed with a variety of weapons, ranging from simple gunshot wounds, the tell tale signs of electrocution, and more obvious traces of being set on fire.

Virgil's heavy footfalls scattered a nest of rats as he passed by their home. The rag he had been using to scrape the congealing blood off his gauntlets was tossed aside, thrown into the garbage receptacle that he strode by. Or something that looked like one, anyway.

It made funny noises at him afterwards, something about a Circus of Values.

A head suddenly popped up and turned to face him.

Virgil didn't wait.

The white-skinned, red lipped caricature of a head was sent down the hall in a shower of sparks.

Tenennbaum gave a surprised gasp. "Virgil? What was that?"

"An… uh… I don't know." Walking over to the fallen head, the Astartes Terminator looked down to inspect the shattered metal head. He then relayed a description of it over the primitive and crackling vox set.

"Ach, dumkoff! That was an advertisement. A simple gimmick to attract custom to their stores."

"Their fault for surprising me, then." Virgil replied, and walked on.

"I somehow doubt you will be paying for damages."

"No, I will not."

"You do not joke around very much, do you?"

"I have found the dental area. Engaging mutants."

* * *

Thomas McDonald was a soldier of Atlas. He had a lot of skills, and was one of the few splicers alive who had managed to take on a Big Daddy and survive. Seeing as he could run fast and slip away into places where only rats could follow, it tended to be a moot point about his courage, but how many kills you managed to rack up was important; how they were achieved was a secondary concern. Right now, he was sucking on a cigarette.

Colin and Dylon McRae were brothers, also soldiers of Atlas. Their tommy-guns were cradled loosely in their hands, and they laughed at each other as they passed the bottle of Arcadian Merlot between them, the mischievous pair eying Lydia Hatley, their sniper.

Beauty plasmids and a lack of sunlight had left her skin porcelain white, and as such she looked like a statue in clothes. Often, and to the entertainment of many (and the fattening of her purse), she just looked like a statue. It was a living, even though it would have given her mother a heart attack if she ever found out about it.

The crossbow she now held in her hands and lovingly caressed and maintained like a newborn child wasn't strung as she tinkered with the sights; they weren't expecting trouble, and her pistol would take care of anything that managed to get too close. Because of this, she was luridly lounging about on a couch they had dragged out here from the waiting room of the (recently) late Dr. Patterson.

Last but not least was their muscleman and oftentimes thug, Bruce. His last name was lost to all, but few had any problems with that. He jumped when you told him to jump (just don't tell him to do so inside of an elevator) and he would kill anyone you told him had been mean to Mr Fuzzles (the bear that he 'hid' under his pillow every day).

Half his head disappeared in the initial stages of the Terminator Daddy's 'ambush'.

They had, of course, ignored the thudding footsteps of the hulking Protetcor. They would not attack without provocation, right? But then again, the weird machine-thing that had come around the corner wasn't exactly a Big Daddy. It moved oddly, for a Big Daddy without his sister… almost as if it had a purpose. The fingers on its left hand – each as massive as a man's foot – flexed with what could only be described as anticipation as the bronze giant approached the five splicers guarding the entrance to the dental sector.

All five – and Bruce in particular – had been confused as they watched the bronze-plated Big Daddy come closer.

Confusion only lasted until the Big Daddy got within arm's reach. What came later was bowel-voiding terror.

Bruce's head fitted neatly in the palm of the Terminator's left hand, and he managed to give a little squeak just before Virgil squeezed.

The remaining splicers could only watch in morbid fascination as bright red blood and grey matter leaked out from between the armored fingers.

'Squashed tomato' was the only way to describe what was left afterwards to fall with a wet smack on the floor. With a flick of a wrist, Dylon was blinded by the former Bruce's blood, brains and hair. A kick sent the fallen body into Colin.

Heavy slugs skipped off his right shoulder pauldron as Lydia fired off all six shots in her pistol.

Faster than thought, the arm whipped around and knocked her down, sending the woman into the couch with enough force to break it.

Thomas screamed an indistinct war-cry as he emptied the fifty round magazine attached to his submachinegun into the armored monstrosity. Oh, he really should have brought the AP rounds today…

Click. Empty.

His arms hurriedly searched his body, trying to find a spare clip somewhere…

"Thomas!" Ah, good ole' reliable Dylon. Catching the tossed magazine, the leadhead splicer quickly reloaded his weapon before…

"Behin-"

Dylon was kicked to the ground before Thomas could finish his warning. He only managed a squeal before a stomp from the monster's right foot flattened his chest.

Dazed, the splicer staggered as he tried to bring his submachine gun to bear. "What the fuckwhatthefuck_whatthef-_"

_CLANG_.

Virgil turned around. What the hell was that?

The culprit was Colin, still defiantly holding the lead pipe in his hands. He was sent flying into the wall by a jab of the powerfist, and then Thomas was bisected at the ribs by a left backhand.

Then, there was silence.

Marching over to where Lydia lay, the Terminator was disappointed to see that the splicer had broken her neck. He didn't need to be an Apocatherion to see that a neck should not twist that way.

Then again, the more probable cause of death was likely the power-fist-shaped impression on her chest.

Virgil hissed out a curse over the radio. "Damnation."

"What is it, Virgil?"

"I wanted this one alive."

"…"

"I needed directions."

"… ach, dummkopf. I'll leave you to it. Just bring Anna back, you hear me?"

From the remains of a wall, there came a groan. "Uuuuh… what the fuck hit me?"

Virgil whispered a quiet prayer of thanks to the Emperor.

"Never mind, Doctor. I found one."

* * *

Stealth was inherently useless to a three-ton walking tank encased in armor that had originally been designed to be stepped on by a Titan and still fight. So, instead, Virgil decided to drag the wounded Colin around by his ankle, and kill whatever came to the wounded man's aid as they trawled through the 'Medical Pavilion'.

None of the twelve mutants who had approached him with various small arms had stood a chance, even the five man ambush near a destroyed sign.

Who knew that rocks were such useful things to use against men in balconies?

"Look, ya big lug, why don't you just lemme go? I already tole' ya, I don't know where your little sister is!"

Silence.

The sign 'Surgery' passed overhead.

"HEEEELP! SOMEBODY HEEEEELP!"

* * *

Virgil sighed in frustration, and dragged the mutant down some stairs. There were perhaps only a total of twenty steps in an L shape, but the Terminator descended the stairs quickly enough. The noisy heathen passed out, soon enough.

Stepping through puddles of water, Virgil noted the broken pipes that surrounded the mouth of this new entrance. Odd, his enhanced recall only remembered a wall of ice. Had someone melted their way through while he was gone?

Only one way to find out…

Ten minutes later, somewhere between the soft carpeting and the pond of water that had a few bodies floating around in it, the Splicer had regained consciousness.

Twenty minutes later, he was talking. Again.

"Hey, guys? Anyone out there? I've got this freaky Big Daddy that's just draggin' me around like my leg's a leash or summat… uh… you might want to be careful, though, he's tougher than most…"

Virgil wished he could afford to shut off his aural sensors, but that would risk him not hearing the next ambush until it hit him, or miss out on any clues about Anna's whereabouts. So instead, due to a lack of stairs exceeding five steps, he had to bear with the fact that the Splicer was talking to him, yammering on like some of the wet-behind-the ears Guardsmen that he had worked with.

"So… uh… you're new here? I'm Colin, by the way… ah… I was only supposed to be guarding the door, so… uh… why did you haf'ta kill us? I mean, Tommy boy was a retard, but Lydia was a sweet gal, y'know?"

The 'Splicer' had stopped begging and shouting for help. Now he had gone 'off the deep end', as Tenenbaum described it when he had first reported the phenomenon, and was now starting to develop more and more… well, insane lines of conversation.

For example: "What's your favorite color?"

To his own surprise, Virgil picked up the man and pressed his face against the tattered red wallpaper.

"So it's red?"

Virgil dropped the man, and resumed dragging.

"Oh, hey… are you looking for our base or something? 'Cuz… uh… there's a ro-"

Hissing, a primitive bolt round came out of nowhere, and Virgil dropped to one knee to let the unguided projectile pass overhead.

"Ohmygodohmygodoh_jeezus_!"

The next shot was punched out of the air. Small flashes warned that this new munition had the potential to score damage on his armor. Virgil was worried that these crude rockets were so surprisingly effective against the Tactical Dreadnought suit. The third rocket wasn't given a chance; Virgil ducked to the side, dragging the splicer with him.

The firing stopped as the two ducked out of sight.

"That's one of them rocket turrets that Orwen set up… jeeze, ain't it supposed to _not_ shoot at Big Daddies an' me?"

Resisting the urge to answer that he _wasn't_ a real Big Daddy, Virgil dropped the Splicer, and hefted a rock. It was, to many people, the size of a tennis ball. Not for Virgil. For him, it was just small enough to fit in the palm of his hand. He didn't know what a tennis ball was.

Ducking his head around the corner, he charged at the boxy machine.

The first rocket hissed overhead, the second was dodged by a deft side-step.

"Da-amn you Big Daddies are fast."

The third was intercepted by the rock.

Virgil reached the rocket launcher, grabbed a hold of it, picked it up, and slammed it into the ground.

Then it exploded.

Oh. Right. Still had ammunition inside.

He blacked out.

"Hey? Hey! You alright?"

Tap tap tap… someone was rapping their knuckles against his forehead.

"Virgil? Virgil! What was that?"

It annoyed him.

"Huh? Who the fuck is that?"

Ah. It was the Colin mutant…

"A friend. Now tell me, how is the Protector?"

A pause.

"Y'mean the Big Daddy? He's still in once piece, I suppose."

Tap tap tap tap…

"Stop that, I think you are annoying him. If you want to live, I suggest you step back quickly."

"Why? What the hell is up with yo-ARGH!"

Virgil had his fingers wrapped around Colin's left arm, and was just a tiny squeeze away from breaking it.

"Uh… buddy? Could you… like… not rip off my arm? I'm kind of… attached to it."

He let go, and dug his fingers into solid concrete to pull himself back up onto his feet.

"Whoa, that's one tough Daddy… I didn't know they built you that tough."

"He is, spliced up one." Tenenbaum hissed. "Now you will help him get to little sister you captured, or else Virgil will make life very… uncomfortable for you."

"You guys give him names, now?"

Virgil faced the man, towering over him.

"Move."

The splicer went a pasty white that was unhealthy even when you've been out of sunlight for a while. "Yessir,rightawaysir!"

"Uh… well, this is it."

"What do you mean?"

"The boss' place is through here, but there's a coded lock to this door, so we'll have t-"

Virgil punched a hole in the door, and then ripped the flimsy structure off its hinges. He hurled the remains of the rectangular door away, and stepped through.

As he followed, Colin looked at the newly opened door, then at Virgil, then back to the door. "Or we can just do that."

The dental surgery had not stayed as it was since the war began. It had diversified. Not only could you get your teeth pulled out here, but also any bullets you might have in your body, or you restore any burnt/charred skin. Not only that, but the many chairs with lots of straps made the place into an excellent torture chamber once the right tools had been brought in.

By extension, such a place was also the ideal place to extract a Little Sister's ADAM.

Virgil knew. The screams were far too familiar. High pitched, childish. Terrified.

Anna.

He stepped through the waiting room and into the actual operating area.

Then the firing started.

* * *

_**Please review and critique, all!**_


	6. Chapter Six: Ambush Breaker

_**Jeeez... sorry for the wait, guys, but ToyHammer's been taking up a lot of my time. Oh, as well as a few other things (like re-playing both Bioshocks to re-adjust myself to their canons and get all the Audio Diaries). Anyway, here's the next chapter of Brother Bubbles. Enjoy, and review (please!).  


* * *

**_

Gunfire filled the room.

It drowned out all noise, took away his senses with flashes of light and the roar of a dozen machine guns firing from all directions.

In the lag between his body's adrenaline surge and the moment where he realized he needed it, Virgil was coldly aware of what happened. They had been waiting for him. Of the random mutants that he had passed by and killed, none were terribly organized. He had thought that this was true for all of these heretical Splicers.

But he was _wrong_.

He had overstepped his confidence, underestimated the enemy. He had allowed himself to become relaxed in this world of primitive weapons and weak enemies. He had failed in his vow of constant vigilance.

Now they had executed the perfect ambush. Sure, their firepower and weapons would take literal weeks of constant shooting to even have a chance of penetrating his armor, but that wasn't the matter. He had been caught unaware, while vulnerable, and was now paying the price for it.

Centuries of refined reflexes saved him again as he knelt down and covered his more vulnerable joints.

These solid, armor-piercing slugs were much unlike the laser weaponry that had been brought to bear against him over centuries of purging heretics. Each slug, while harmless, threatened to chip away a slight layer of his armor, unlike the easier to disperse las blasts. Additionally, the longer he remained like this, all turtle up and crouched down, the more weapons could be gathered and brought to bear.

They could do one of many hundreds of things to him, all of which he could be endangered. Explosives could be used to drop the floor out from underneath him, and the fall could be more than dangerous.

Not only that, Anna was still out there, still under the guard of the Splicers.

Rage filling his veins, Virgil picked a direction, and charged.

They had been arrayed in a roughly semi-circular arc, mostly to prevent themselves firing at each other in the deadly crossfire.

A few had already fallen, clutching their wounds where a ricochet had struck them. Two were satisfyingly still as the pool of blood spread out underneath their bodies.

His armor held through, and Virgil shrugged off most of the last desperate counter-attacks, bisecting the arc, his massive arms tossing two Splicers aside as he swung about wildly. His right arm shot out and caught one in mid-air, then smashed the mutant into others, using the shattered body as a club as he swung back and forth, sending more flying as panic spread through the ranks. Three, four, five splicers were sent tumbling to the ground as their former comrade was turned against them, and the other half of the formation fell back as the armored giant shrugged off the AP rounds.

Turning towards that half, Virgil charged again, his power fist crackling to life as he spotted a splicer's hand freeze into a frostbitten hedgehog of ice.

One, two, three blasts of heat-sucking vapor splashed across his limbs, quickly forming into stone-hard ice. The temperature readings on his suit's monitors skydived, and the outer layers of artificial muscles in his armor slowed to a standstill at the sudden change in temperature.

Virgil flexed the other set of muscles, and shattered the layer of ice before it could completely encase him.

"Shit! Shoot him! SHOOT HIM!"

More gunfire sparked off ceramite armor, taking off microscopic chips of the ancient shoulder-plate

with them as they bounced off his chest.

"Doesn't anyone have a 'Hypnotize Big Daddy' plasmid?"

Virgil punched the head off someone's shoulders.

"Yeah, but he just lost his head!"

"Fuckit, shoot the bastard!"

The ice-wielder exploded as a powerfist's finger was punched through his chest, and then hurled him through the air. Flames washed over him now, and he lashed out with his boot this time, propelling the twisted parody of a human being through the air and into the broken pipes above.

"Shit, why the hell is this bastard not going down! ?"

"I don't know! I don't know!"

The Terminator's backhand chop took a man's head off his shoulders, and an open-palmed strike crushed the ribcage of another. There were still many more to come. With him in amongst them, their panicked weapons fire was harming their allies more than their nemesis. Then again, it hadn't been hurting him more than the occasional scrape against the shoulders of his battle-brothers while they were riding into battle.

A man ran up to him, leaping forwards and leveling a shotgun.

With a booming explosion, the small pellets of the 00 buck slammed into his face, bounced off, and peppered the man with the slugs. He went down screaming, cut short as the terminator turned him over and stomped his spine flat enough to be pneumo'd.

More lightning struck him, seeping in through the atmospheric filters. When locked down into hazardous-environment mode, his armor would have been impregnable, sealing its human operator inside so tightly that it was almost enough to walk on the surface of a sun.

But… with the Imperium of Man as it was, the Adeptus Mechanicus especially, their knowledge of technology fading, with aged and inferior parts being used in place of their originals. Terminator suits may have had interchangeable parts, but no longer were they the seamless fits of older times.

Virgil's jaw clamped shut when the pain lanced through his body, and again his suit's ancient operating system went into overload.

He dropped to one knee, and sagged so that his chest touched his knees. His systems were overloaded, and Virgil gritted his teeth, trying to calm himself so as to think. From now on, he couldn't just brute force his way through. Well, it would be easier and far less risky to take this more slowly.

_System overload. _

Cursing and snarling, Virgil forced his suit into action, hurling himself at one of the splicers.

_Rebooting._

Spoke a buzzing mechanical voice inside of his suit.

A voice called out. "Did we get him? Daniels, check it out."

Five.

Someone kicked him in the face, only to be sent off hopping on one foot, the broken toe clutched in his

hands.

Four.

"Yeah, he ain't movin' no more."

More scuffling, and a shout as Colin was brought out.

Three.

"Hey, ain'tcha McRae? Supposed ta be out by ol' Suchong's place?"

"Y-yeah… but the big guy grabbed me an'… killed off the others… an' well, here I am."

"Alright, then. The bastard got McArlen, Uzzie, Tollens and Pedersen… anyone else?"

_Two_.

There was a brief chorus of other names, the names of people who had been killed by the lone Terminator.

One.

"Fuck. We don't usually lose more than a few against a Big Daddy, but… jeezus, what have they been doing to them? This ain't just a Big Daddy."

"Th-thanks."

System rebooted. _THE EMPEROR PROTECTS._

Virgil heard, from the inside of his helmet, a scream.

Anna. Again.

Their leader was the first to die as the re-awakened Terminator stood and punched an armored fist through his chest, reaching through the grizzled man to clamp his fingers around the messenger's throat and then tear it right out of his neck.

Panic.

Everyone but the silent berserker was running, scrambling to get away from the resurrected Big Daddy, now more than just a helpless prisoner to his rage. It was an avenging angel of death, a terrible nemesis.

Fear incarnate. He stomped on the ground, shaking the floor and sending people staggering, off balance. Slow.

Dead.

His power fist, still but a hunk of metal as the power field was switched off as the power unit spooled up, caught a man – Colin – and then threw him behind a row of benches. Hopefully he would be smart enough to stay down until the. A few bullets spattered off his chest, and the gunman was quickly cut down by the thrown body of their hollowed-out leader.

Only a few of the dozen and a half splicers now remained, and they all fled from him. Let the word spread, Virgil thought. He would see their leader soiling himself soon enough.

"Tenenbaum?" He asked, thumbing the radio. No answer came. Checking the primitive vox-set, he was disappointed to see that it had been shot through several times. It was now – at best – a box of scraps.

"Machine Spirit, messenger of humanity, you have served well. May you rest in peace." He whispered awkwardly to the spirit of the radio, before laying it down in a quiet corner of the room.

"Hey… uh… hello?"

Colin's voice peeped up from the benches.

"You aren't going to hurt me, are you?"

A head poked up, and the armored gauntlet wrapped around his neck. Colin was thrown out of his hiding place, before a weapon – a primitive autogun – was thrust into his hands.

Virgil spoke to him for the first time, a single command that would not be disobeyed. "Lead."

* * *

_Maxine Inglesia._

That was her name. Of course, the second part had been adopted, when she had shed her surface identity and become a citizen of Rapture. It was meant to be utopia, a place where the streets were paved with gold. Or something like that, anyway. A grand place where everyone wanted for nothing.

That would have been heaven on (or under) earth, right? But, when you looked at Rapture and what was happening now, it was quite the hellhole. She sat on her bed, immobile. Her trembling fingers clutched at the hypodermic needle that had been left on the bed.

It had been left there for her. While ADAM was the king of drugs around here, there were others that cropped up as the 'entertainment' business that had derived from such flexible drugs became rapidly more and more popular.

The man in the corner of the room – a customer – smiled and bid her to go on. Hiding the disgusted lurch of her stomach, Maxine sighed. She straightened out her arm, and pushed the thin tip of the needle into her pale flesh.

A gasp, and then a sensation of falling.

Now, she was high on some kind of drug that she didn't even know about. EDEN, they called it. It would send you to paradise, for a short while and for the right price.

Looking around her room now, the drug lived up to its name. The bedding she was on was – rather than the dirty grey that it was – seemingly the purest of white, and as soft as ermine fur. Ragged and torn curtains, some parts splattered by blood, had been replaced with red velvet, fixed to the wall with etched gold fixtures.

Then, there was the man. He was sitting in front of her, taking the place of the ugly mutant that had been there a few seconds ago. Dressed in a dark suit with a white shirt and gloves, he was the spitting image of perfection. A broad smile cracked his face, and he looked around with her, following her eyes.

"So, what do you think?"

"Oh my… it's so _beautiful_."

"Mhmm… that's right, doll."

But… something nagged at the back of her mind. Things were out of place. She could see what they were, what they _should have been_, but… a blink sent her back to reality, back into the grimy, mouldy room that had become her workplace. She shut her eyes, shut herself away from the hell that was reality, and pushed the plunger further down. Her muscles relaxed as her eyes dilated, the bright room around her again became a paradise.

Like the Garden of Eden.

Eyelids heavy, Maxine managed a soft whimper as the man pushed the plunger down the rest of the way, and removed the needle from her arm. His hands scrabbled at her clothes, breathing quick as he reached for the ties to her corset.

_Clank, clank…_ a suit of armor walked in through a door that hadn't been there the last time she checked. It glowed, the polished armor casting a golden light about the room as he strode in. His left hand was simply enormous, and crackled with lightning as he stepped forward. Maxine was just aware of the knight's squire, who was at his master's side, before there was a sudden bout of laughter.

The man that had been at the bedside, hunched over the young woman, stood up. Raising his arm at the two men with a rusty pistol held loosely in his hand, his mouth moving slightly out of synch with his laughter, he didn't stand a chance as bright sparks skipped off the armor of the armored knight.

The squire raised his hands, and blood red petals bloomed on the other man's chest as the world exploded into a twenty-one gun salute.

The last of the brass casings rolled around on the ground.

"Did I get him?"

The man was on the floor, spread eagle and bleeding from the half dozen bullet holes that had been torn into his chest, ruining the frayed waistcoat and shirt. Weakly, he began to rise again.

Virgil walked over, and stomped his head flat.

There was screaming, and the two intruders turned to see the woman on the bed as she fell off, tumbling to the ground.

"Aw damn." The splicer swore, picking up an empty syringe, reading the label printed on the side. She continued to panic, her breath coming fast and shallow. "Poor girl's hopped up on EDEN. It's probably recoiling, seeing as how she's screaming and not… err… enjoying herself."

Virgil cocked an eyebrow at this. Colin was actually intelligent? He looked at the girl, and shuddered. The past came rushing back to him. That girl… She scrambled away from him, fleeing to a corner of the room and whimpering in fear. She pressed herself into the small space, trying to distance herself from the fearsome warrior of the Emperor. The Terminator Marine – to her eyes, a knight of majestic gold and fear made metal (technically ceramic) – stepped back, and turned away. His suit's monitor beeped incessantly, warning him of jumping heart rates in both organs. The pads of his gauntleted fists were clammy and sweaty, and his throat had dried up.

"Attend to her." He rumbled, thankful that the voxcaster masked the quaver of uncertainty in his voice. "I shall locate a radio."

The Splicer stared, his jaw slack.

Virgil cocked his head to one side, the bear-like helmet behind his head shifting to match his movement.

"Was I unclear?"

Colin shook his head, rather more quickly than was necessary.

"Since when did you talk so much?" He asked, the more obvious signs of panic and fear crossing his face and chasing each other around in circles.

Virgil's massive armored shoulders shrugged as he turned around, trying to find something to distract himself. Anything but listen to the whimpering of the young woman behind him.

"Since I had something worth saying."

Colin nodded, and crouched down beside the young woman.

He frowned as she sobbed, clutching her knees with long, lanky limbs. "Hey… uh… miss? Miss? You alright? Jeezus, I'm not very good at this… hey? You hurt?"

* * *

Little Anna was afraid. She was afraid of the Strangers. Back in the Big House, the Helpers would always tell her about Stranger Danger and how it was bad for her to talk to Strangers. Angels needed Kissing, but Strangers Were Dangerous. She was a Good Little Sister. Or maybe she was a Bad Girl, now that she had been caught. Bad Things Happened To Bad Girls. Anna whimpered as she was taken from her cell, and then dragged atop a table.

It was like Papa Suchong's Big Table, but different. It was dirty and smelly.

Carelessly, a hand didn't hold her leg down tightly enough, and Anna broke away. She crawled into a corner, stumbling over the waters that pooled on the floor. A Stranger laughed. It was a scary laugh.

"Aww, is de widdle girlie scared, then? _WELL TOO BAD!"_

She flinched away from the voice. The voice of the evil man.

They picked her up again, slammed her down onto the table. Her wrists and legs rendered immobile as she was tied down. She may have been tough, perhaps almost impossible to kill, but that didn't mean that she was any stronger than the next eight year old girl. A Stranger held her down, her resilient body too light and too weak to put up any resistance. Still, she kicked and screamed. Mr. Bubbles would come back. He always did. He would X their eyes if he had to, but he would always Be There for her, right?

A bright light flashed as the scalpel swung around. There was pain. It hurt! Like the picture of the Stranger, it hurt whenever she was close.

Screaming, Anna struggled as the Stranger drew a hot line across her arm. Blood dribbled to the floor as the cut across her forearm sealed itself. Hands grabbed her, pulling her out into the bright room. The big lamp was bright. Too bright. Her eyes were hurting. Hurting so much…

"See? She's got a regeneration factor. That's how you see if they've got ADAM in them. So we just open her up, right? She's got all that healing shit with her, so she'll patch herself up just fine after we take all the good stuff."

There was another bright flash of pain as the man in the white coat tore into her stomach, bright red fluid leaking from the wound.

Shouting and screaming was useless for her. Nobody would care even if they did hear the little girls' screaming.

Anna knew nothing else.

* * *

Virgil looked around, and his finger stabbed into the soft iron of the safe. Brass melted and was rent apart as the power field ripped through atoms and disintegrated the copper and zinc that made up the brass lock.

Eighty pounds of iron and steel fell to the floor as the door was ripped out.

Behind him, there was a scream. He ignored it, riffling through sheets of paper and small squares of gold as he searched for the radio.

"Er… um…"

Colin now had a very scared, not to mention attractive young woman wrapped around his neck. He had managed to get her name, at least, and convince her that he was there to help. Maxine was crying, her tears soaking the stained shoulder of his shirt, clinging tightly to him as the armored Daddy walked around, rummaging through drawers, safes (many of which now had a rather large finger-sized hole where the lock should have been) and cupboards to find another radio.

"Uh… hey, Buddy? Helloo?"

Virgil continued on, unheeding the two as he relentlessly tore apart wood and metal to find the elusive prize. He knew that there should have been one _somewhere_.

"Hey… uh… hey! Big Guy!"

The Terminator spun around with a speed that should have been impossible for something of his bulk, and his cold, glowing red eyes bored into the other man's.

There was no need for words.

"Uh… er… huh… never mind."

Colin retreated back as his throat failed him – possibly because of the girl's arms were clenched tightly around his neck. His face was getting worryingly pale…

Ah. Here it was.

The radio crackled to life as the nimble fingers of the terminator's right fist flicked the switches on the side of the primitive device.

He thumbed – carefully – the SEND button.

Hissing and buzzing, the wireless tuned into the frequency that Tenenbaum had given him.

"Tenenbaum?"

"Ah! Virgil, do you enjoy making others worry? What happened? Have you found the little one?"

"Ambush."

"I see. Are you hurt?"

"No."

"And what about Anna?"

The Terminator's silence was unsettling.

"Virgil… please. Find her."

* * *

_**That's all for now, guys. I've become slightly uncomfortable with the idea of messing with canon, so I might time skip or reboot 'Brother Bubbles' until after the end of Bioshock 2. Or do a whole new fic relating to how Eleanor does on the surface world.**_

_**Or, if you guys are enjoying what you see so far, I can have Brother Bubbles simply stomp on canon.**_


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